


The First Christmas

by searchingforpeter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingforpeter/pseuds/searchingforpeter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthea has always spent Christmas with her family. Every year, she makes the trip down to Dorset to stay with her parents and brothers, right up until New Year's Eve. Now that she's with Mycroft, spending Christmas with her family (and without him) might just feel a little bit different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Plans

“Plans for Christmas, sir?”  
  


Anthea already knew the answer. It would be the same as every other year she had been working for Mycroft, of course. He never did do much during the winter holiday period, unless he was forced into something by his mother. Anthea always thought Mrs Holmes was a delightful woman, no matter the horror stories Mycroft told her. It baffled her, even still, that he wouldn't want to spend Christmas with his parents, at least.  
  


“None, as ever, Anthea.” Mycroft replied, all without looking up from the document on his desk.  
  


It was getting late, the deadline on her final day in the office fast approaching. She knew that she would have very little contact with him over Christmas, so every second had to count.  
  


Anthea was going to spend Christmas with her family, just like she had done every year since she left university. No matter what came between them during the year, Anthea's family _always_ put their differences aside for Christmas. They resolved their problems, sorted through their issues, and had a jolly good time at the end of it all. With all her siblings and their children around, her parents probably wouldn't even notice the addition of one more.  
  


“I don't suppose you'd care to join me for Christmas this year?” Anthea offered, attempting to play it off like it was something far more casual.  
  


Officially, they had only been dating a month. Naturally, that didn't account for the months of friendly screwing around they'd been doing since the spring, and it certainly didn't account for the years of flirting and tension between them. Regardless, a month into their official – albeit hidden – relationship was probably a bit too soon to be asking Mycroft to join her family for Christmas.  
  


Unfortunately for Anthea, she realised this only a moment too late, the offer having already left her mouth.  
  


Mycroft was doing his best not to look positively startled. He understood social conventions far better than his brother and he knew how milestones worked in relationships, but it was all rather... sudden. In truth, he was still reeling from the phenomenal fight they'd had at the beginning of November, which had led to a host of messy emotions and the relationship they now found themselves in. With this on top of that...  
  


“Perhaps not this year, my dear.” Mycroft gave Anthea a tense, apologetic smile along with his excuses. “Your parents aren't even aware of the two of us-”  
  


Anthea shrugged on her coat and crossed the space between them quite quickly. She bent down to kiss his cheek once she reached him. The small, gentle peck effectively silenced Mycroft, leaving him blinking at the woman stood over him.  
  


“It's alright. I understand.” Anthea reassured her employer, lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever they were calling each other. “Too much, too soon. I'm sure I can cope without you until New Year's Eve. I'll be letting them know, though. About us, I mean.”  
  


_As expected_ , Mycroft thought. From what he'd heard, Anthea's family were considerably more close-knit than his own. She kept in regular contact with her siblings and her parents, saw them whenever she could, and the Christmas ritual had absolutely astonished him when they'd first moved on to friendlier terms in the office. He didn't understand the appeal of spending every winter holiday with the same people, especially considering that Anthea saw them throughout the year as well.  
  


“I do hope you'll stick to the official story.” Mycroft smiled, standing to offer her a parting embrace.  
  


Anthea cuddled up against his chest once he opened his arms for her. He was far, far warmer than any coat would ever be, and it was a crying shame that she wasn't able to face the freezing cold outside with him. Even though she understood, she was still miserable about having to leave him behind.  
  


“Of course I'll stick to it.” Anthea rolled her eyes when she pulled back, fixing his tie idly. “No mention of all that no strings sex, no mention of the messy, crying-and-screaming fight we had... Just a simple, accidental office romance that's all sunshine and rainbows and not saving the international population from global disasters on a daily basis.”  
  


It was Mycroft's turn to roll his eyes when Anthea had finished. She grinned at him before leaning up for a sweetly passionate kiss.  
  


“Drive safely.” Mycroft mumbled against her lips, pressing another kiss to them, and another. “Do remember to call me when you reach Poole-”  
  


Anthea would've found Mycroft's concern laughable if he had been anyone else. He knew what they went through on a daily basis, the risks they faced and the challenges they overcame for Queen and Country. As it was, she found it incredibly endearing. He didn't always have the words to express how he felt and this sort of thing was still quite new to them both, so the extra effort had Anthea smiling into the next kiss she gave him.  
  


“I've left your Christmas present on your bed at home.” Anthea added, just as she was collecting her bag. “You can have the others I've bought for you when I get back on the twenty-ninth.”  
  


As if struck by divine inspiration, Mycroft suddenly began to jostle about in his desk drawers. Anthea paused in the doorway of the office, brow knitted into a puzzled frown. After a moment or two of digging through old files and notes for reference, Mycroft produced a small, delicately wrapped package from the bottom drawer of his ornate desk.  
  


It went without saying that Anthea was surprised to find he had a gift for her stashed away in the office. Yes, she'd packed in advance so that she could simply leave and get onto the road once her day was done, but still. It was a lovely gesture, to give her something that she could open with her family.  
  


“I won't insist you wait until Christmas Day.” Mycroft smiled, seeing a little unsure of himself as he placed the box into Anthea's hands. “But... I would like to hear from you, when you do open it. Just a text will do, to let me know if you like it.”  
  


Anthea tucked the box into her coat pocket and reached up for another kiss. Anyone that said he was hard and cruel and nothing other than that was terribly, horribly wrong. Mycroft Holmes was just as sweet as a man could be, and just as timid when giving gifts he hadn't consulted at great length about first.  
  


“I'm sure I'll love it.” Anthea reluctantly let go of his hand; she really did have to leave soon. “I'll call you when I reach the house. There's my mother's Christmas invitation letter in the top drawer of your desk, too. Just in case you change your mind.”  
  


The chances of him doing that were slim indeed, but Anthea remained hopeful. After being roped in for a final kiss – which she absolutely didn't protest against half as much as she should have done – Anthea left the office, made her way down to the garage and was well on her way to Poole by the time Mycroft even thought to move again.  
  


*****   
  


It was an odd place, Mycroft's home, when Anthea wasn't in it. She had been living with him for years, simply out of ease, but their dynamic had shifted since they'd entered into a relationship. With that shift, the atmosphere of the house had changed. It was no longer simply a collection of walls and windows and doors with a roof slapped on top.  
  


All around the house, there was evidence of her. The Christmas tree in the living room, the faux-pine garlands around the bannisters, the wealth of exquisitely baked gingerbread left to keep in a cake tin on the island in the kitchen. The whole house had been decorated in warm reds and glittering golds for Christmas, and every inch of it had been Anthea's doing.  
  


Mycroft reasoned that it didn't necessarily make him _weak_ when he located the invitation letter from Anthea's mother, only two days after Anthea had left for Dorset. He sat at his desk and unfolded the cream paper, finger tracing the gold banding around the page before he read what her mother had written.  
  


_Dear Annie,_   
  


_It's the best time of the year again: a big Mallory family Christmas! We don't want you to be all by yourself this year, or stuck playing babysitter while you're here, so please try to bring a friend, darling. Your father and I know you don't have a lot of time for all that relationship rubbish with your work, but we really don't want to invite the neighbour's boy again like we did last year. He's a pain and we all know you don't like him, not even a little bit._   
  


_We'll see you at Christmas time, darling._   
  


_All our love,_

_Mum and Dad x_   
  


On the back of the page, her parents had had their address and formal names printed, despite the invitation going to a family member. Mycroft didn't question it, simply because he now knew _exactly_ where Anthea had gone to join her family for Christmas.

 


	2. Miles Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for anyone that's noticed a difference:
> 
> In my canon setting fics, Anthea's last name is Mallory. In my AU fics, her last name is (usually) Turner. It's just my way of setting her characters apart. That should clear up any confusion!

The gift Mycroft had given Anthea for Christmas made its debut at her mother's Christmas Eve party. Without really meaning to, Anthea became the focus of the entire room because of it. Her siblings questioned it, her nieces and nephews wanted to touch it, family friends were fascinated by it. Anthea, personally, wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to kiss or throttle Mycroft for all the attention it was causing her to endure.  
  


On her wrist, throughout the evening, sat a David Yurman 'wisteria' bracelet. The elegant twists of gold and diamonds formed a thin, beautiful band, and Anthea had nearly cried when she'd opened the box that morning. It was ridiculously expensive – setting him back easily £6000, and then some – but absolutely beautiful. She couldn't even bring herself to be angry about the fact that he'd splashed out on something so small.  
  


Every time she moved her hand, she caught sight of the shimmering diamonds, the sheen of the gold, and her thoughts immediately went to the man she'd left behind in London.  
  


“Whoever bought you that must love you a lot.” Anthea's mother commented, eyeing her daughter's new trinket. “And don't tell me you bought it for yourself. You'd never spend so much money on a bracelet.”  
  


Anthea had never been able to hide anything from her mother. She'd been dissuaded from teenage rebellion after being caught out a dozen or so times, just because her mother always seemed to be _right there_ whenever she tried to sneak out or sneak people into the house.  
  


Nothing had changed much, and Anthea was met with her mother's ' _now don't you dare lie to me young lady_ ' face when she turned back to look at her.  
  


“There is someone.” Anthea admitted, running her fingers over the bracelet gently. “But he's not... He's not too good at all this family stuff, mum. That's why he's not here, before you ask.”  
  


Anthea just caught her mother's sympathetic glance before she looked away. Across the room, people were dancing, playing with children, sat with their significant others. As much as she understood, she couldn't help but feel robbed of that _real_ Christmas feeling. Being away from Mycroft somehow felt wrong, despite the fact that it had been the same arrangement for years, now.  
  


“As long as you're happy, darling, that's all that matters.” Anthea's mother stood on her toes to kiss her daughter's cheek, before leaving her to think.  
  


She was happy with Mycroft, Anthea knew she was. But having him there with her would have made her even happier.  
  


*****   
  


“Her mother's name is Elizabeth. Her father's name is Peter. She has- Are you sure you're listening?”  
  


Mycroft was beginning to regret asking Sherlock for his help. He didn't have much time to memorise the names and relations of Anthea's immediate family, those she would be spending Christmas with, and the time he did have was going to be spent driving. With the promise of some cold cases that even Scotland Yard couldn't get their grubby mitts on, Sherlock had agreed to talk through the list of family that Mycroft had managed to find, so that his brother could know each and every one of them by the time he reached Dorset.  
  


On the dashboard, Mycroft's phone displayed Sherlock's face and the rather impressive scowl his younger brother was wearing. Mycroft gave a hefty sigh and nodded, gesturing vaguely towards his phone camera.  
  


“Yes, Sherlock, of course. I'm also trying to drive-”  
  


“Ugh, middle age is going to be awful, I can tell already. How _do_ you cope?”  
  


Mycroft found himself snapping at the camera as Sherlock's face crumpled up in disgust. Middle age wasn't usually a problem for him, but with the added nerves and personal pressure... Mycroft wasn't doing too well. Sherlock got the message from the clicking fingers, however, and continued without further prompting.  
  


“Her parents should be easy. The siblings... That's where it gets tricky. Everyone but Anthea seems to be reproducing like rabbits-”  
  


“ _Sherlock_.”  
  


“Alright, alright!” Sherlock cleared his throat, holding up the first photograph for Mycroft to see. Once his brother had looked, he continued. “That's Gareth, her eldest brother. His wife's name is Sarah, and they have two children: Christopher and Lucy. Got all that?”  
  


Mycroft ran it through in his head, just to be sure. _Elizabeth is her mother, Peter is her father. Gareth is her eldest brother, and Sarah is his wife. Their two children are Christopher and Lucy._  
  


“Yes, yes. Next sibling.”  
  


Sherlock sighed, flipping through the fairly dense folder to find yet another photograph. He held it up again, waited, and then continued to explain.  
  


“Thomas, next brother. Older than Anthea, again. His fiancée is Victoria and they have one daughter, Amelia. That one is simple, you can't _not_ get that one, Mycroft.” Sherlock scoffed, once he was done running through that second small family.  
  


As Sherlock continued on, Mycroft began to remember more and more about Anthea's family. He'd done his best to remember them all already, of course, but a bit of memory jogging was often necessary. Just to be sure, if nothing else.  
  


Thomas and Victoria were expecting another little one, if he remembered correctly. Sherlock had failed to mention that, but then he highly doubted he had written it down in his notes. After Thomas, there was Harry. He was married to Nina, and they had two children: Jacob and Bethany. Then there was Anthea, the youngest of them all, and she had... Well, she had Mycroft, and that truly was it. She didn't have any children, had never been married before, didn't share much in common with her siblings in terms of personal relationships.  
  


Mycroft was comforted only by the fact that Anthea had yet to express any want for those things. He knew her well enough, or so he liked to believe, and he would _know_ if those things had played on her mind.  
  


Once he had all the names and faces and ages committed to memory, Sherlock's face disappeared from his phone. Mycroft continued on through the small hours, having woken to face the dawn just to reach Anthea in time to spend Christmas Day with her.  
  


Nerves be damned. He had been a fool to think he could miss their first Christmas together.


	3. Reunited

Anthea was woken the following morning by a barrage of small children. She covered her face in a meagre attempt to protect herself from the bouncing children on her bed. All around her, the nieces and nephews that were old enough to screech and yell and run around were doing exactly that. Christmas fever had finally reached them and no-one was going to get any more rest until presents had been opened, apparently.  
  


“God, it's a good job you're so cute. The last person that woke me up at six-thirty in the morning didn't live to tell the tale.” Anthea laughed, wrestling Amelia, her eldest niece, down towards the bed.  
  


She blew raspberries on the eight-year-old's arm and shoulder, before allowing her to wriggle out of bed and scamper off. The four cousins – Christopher, Amelia, Lucy and Jacob – could be heard clattering down the stairs and running into the living room, where the Christmas tree was.  
  


Even from the top floor of her parents' house, Anthea could hear them all going on about how Santa had come even though they weren't at home.  
  


Anthea pulled herself out of bed and stretched out the kinks in her muscles. She made a vague attempt at brushing out the tangles in her hair, changed into some presentable pyjamas and put on a bra. Her father would be out with the camera from the minute they all got downstairs, so she had to look somewhat decent.  
  


Out in the hallway, Anthea met an equally exhausted looking parade of brothers and sister-in-laws. Taking pity on Harry and Nina, Anthea offered to hold Bethany and keep an eye on her while the older kids opened their gifts. The ten-month-old was a riot to watch when she was crawling around, but she was turning out to be a bit of a Houdini whenever she wasn't in someone's arms.  
  


Once they were all downstairs, it didn't take long for each of the kids to settle behind their present piles. Anthea took up the seat by the door as she watched her nieces and nephews rip open their gifts, each fawning and yelping about every one in turn. Her favourite part about Christmas, by far, was the giving of gifts. She loved to see the looks on the faces of her family and her friends when they opened her gifts; each year it was the same, all smiles and rushed hugs, but it never got old.  
  


The kids were halfway through opening their presents when the doorbell rang in the hallway.  
  


Anthea exchanged a well-mannered frown with her mother. They clearly weren't expecting anyone, but on the off-chance that it was early morning carol singers or someone simply spreading Christmas joy, they weren't going to ignore it.  
  


When the front door was opened, Mycroft was met with a remarkably short woman with a head full of silver hair. The wrinkles around her eyes were from laughing, deep-set and likely well loved, and there wasn't a single frown line upon her forehead. She was bundled up in a tartan dressing gown and- Oh. Clearly had _no idea_ who he was or why he was there.  
  


“Mrs Mallory, yes?” Mycroft offered, keeping his voice down as best he could.  
  


Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the man on her doorstep. The sea wind was bringing in a chill and her old bones just weren't made for that any more, but she kept him right there on the threshold regardless. Posh-looking, wrapped in a thick, collared cardigan, giving off the impression of awkwardness and old money without even trying... She had an idea of who he was before he'd even begun to explain.  
  


“You're here for my Annie, aren't you?” Elizabeth cocked a smile, nodding the odd man on her doorstep inside when he simply floundered and nodded an affirmative.  
  


Out of the cold at last, Elizabeth gave him a good, solid once over. She folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips, and Mycroft was taken back by how her mannerisms were shockingly similar to Anthea's. He'd received that exact same dressing down from her a thousand times before, but now he could see where she got it from.  
  


“Ah... I should probably introduce myself. My name is-”  
  


“Anthea!” Elizabeth cut him off, turning her head towards the living room. “There's someone here to see you, darling!”  
  


Mycroft hadn't expected her mother to simply yell for her. He stood there, quite startled by her bold disregard for him at that moment, completely and utterly frozen. When Anthea rounded the corner from the living room, all Mycroft could do was smile fondly.  
  


Her hair was still slightly curly, untouched by straighteners or anything of the like just yet, and he could see all her freckles where her face was free of her usual make-up. She lifted a hand to rub at one bleary eye, the other arm carefully cradling a very handsy baby, but all of that sleepiness dropped away immediately when she clapped eyes on him.  
  


“ _Mycroft?!_ ”  
  


Elizabeth opened her arms for her granddaughter when Anthea got close enough. She hugged Bethany tight and watched as her daughter ran across the hall, right into her lover's arms.  
  


Mycroft had only _just_ been ready for Anthea when she pounced upon him. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He wasn't quite sure if she was sobbing or laughing, with the way she was shaking. Anthea's hands were everywhere as she hugged him. They raked through his hair, grappled with his nape, ran over his shoulders and then up, cupping his jaw as she pulled back to look at him.  
  


“I thought you said you weren't coming.” Anthea bit out, between rushed, sweet kisses. “What on _earth_ possessed you to come?”  
  


Now came the difficult part. Anthea watched as the tips of Mycroft's ears coloured pink, then the highest part of his cheeks, the flush descending to the tiniest bit of skin she could see poking out from his shirt collar.  
  


He pressed a timid kiss to her temple, lips moving against her skin as he mumbled. “It simply wasn't home without you there, my dear.”  
  


Anthea did sob, then. It came out as a single, choked sound, breaking against the stubble-rough skin of his cheek. Mycroft held her even closer as she looped her arms around his neck, crushing him into yet another hug. They wobbled a little, swaying in the hallway, totally oblivious to the people watching them.  
  


Peter had his arm around Elizabeth, the two of them fondly watching their youngest child reunite with her partner. In the true spirit of Christmas, they'd come together for the warmth of the holiday. What more could a parent ask for than happy children at Christmas?  
  


It took a little while for them to break apart, and when they did, everyone had gone back to unwrapping their gifts. Anthea led Mycroft into the living room by the hand. They stood there, in the doorway, cuddled up close and simply watching the happiness unfold before them. Toys were bragged about, knitted jumpers complained about, socks laughed at... It was perfect already, without anything else.  
  


“I have gifts for all of you, too.” Mycroft announced, finally feeling comfortable after all the introductions were over with.  
  


He returned from his car a few moments later with four rather large gift bags. They reached mid-thigh, when set on the floor, and contained gifts for each little denomination of the Mallory family. He'd bought presents for her parents, her brothers, her sister-in-laws, their children... No-one had been left out.  
  


Anthea couldn't find the words to explain just what it meant to her, having him make such an effort. Christmas had never meant much to Mycroft, but it had been her family's one, true constant over the years.  
  


“I love you, by the way.” Anthea whispered, pressing a kiss against his shoulder while they sat, watching everyone unwrap their gifts.  
  


Mycroft's lips skimmed the top of her head and his hold around her tightened briefly. The smile was fixed upon his face, natural and warm, and the stress of London, of work, was a million miles away. It had all been worth it, just to see Anthea happy, if nothing else.  
  


“Merry Christmas, my dear.” Mycroft smiled fondly against her lips when Anthea tilted her head up for a kiss.  
  


And it was, truly, a very merry Christmas.


End file.
